


Lessons

by stardropdream



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Emotional Abuse, Incest, M/M, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:05:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many lessons Seishirou taught his brother growing up. These are what Fuuma remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ May 20, 2011.

**i. First Lesson.**  
(Fuuma learns his brother’s lessons. He learns them without Seishirou ever having to say them. Fuuma supposes it’s better that way or, at the very least, Seishirou wants it to be that way—so that’s the way it’s going to be. That is lesson one. His brother always gets what he wants.)  
  
Fuuma learns this lesson when Seishirou grabs him by the back of his collar and pulls him backwards, and his fingers slide over the skin of the back of Fuuma’s neck, and makes the younger one shudder.   
  
“Seishirou-niisan?” he asks, quietly, eyes wide, as he looks up at his brother. In the dim lighting, his brother is smiling at him in a way that Fuuma likes to think is only for him.   
  
He likes to think that’s the case, likes to think that maybe his brother cares enough about him to see him with some regard, to see him as something other than a nuisance underneath his feet.  
  
His brother is smiling like that, and he strokes his fingers along the soft skin of Fuuma’s neck, then shoulder. But he does not speak, not right away.  
  
Fuuma stares up at him, whatever words he’d think to say catching in his throat. He remains silent. It is easier that way.   
  
His brother stays silent, as well, his fingers exploring his exposed skin, expression thoughtful. He knows his eyes are wide, that he’s probably staring at his brother with a mixture of fear and hope, but he can’t really stop the expressions. He still needs to learn how to pretend.   
  
No words pass between them, but Fuuma knows what it is his brother wants. He swallows thickly, and waits until his brother pauses in the movements of his fingers.  
  
“Seishirou-niisan,” he says, quietly, and waits until his brother focuses on him—and he delights in such attention, “It’s… um. It’s okay. If you want to…”  
  
His brother’s eyes shift, and Fuuma knows that he has said the wrong thing.  
  
He hurries to correct it, hurries because he does not want to lose his brother’s touch, does not want to lose the feeling of belonging and importance. “You don’t ever have to wait or ask. You can just… do it.”   
  
He can’t read his brother’s expression this time, and Fuuma isn’t sure if he’s said the wrong or right thing this time. But then his brother’s hand shifts over his shirt, and thumbs at one of the buttons. He doesn’t quite undo it, but he plays with it, his fingernails brushing over the pocket of skin exposed at the bottom of Fuuma’s neck. Fuuma swallows thickly and Seishirou watches him, then shifts his hand up to touch at his throat. He waits. Fuuma swallows again and watches as his brother smiles.   
  
He pops the button, and pulls the shirt down off one of Fuuma’s shoulders. The other hand drifts up over his neck, his jaw, into his hair. He pushes the hair back away from Fuuma’s face and before Fuuma is quite certain, his brother is kissing him. Hard and bruising, Fuuma whimpers a little but opens his mouth to his brother and lets him take what he wants. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he stays still. Seishirou’s hands slide along his skin, one along his shoulder and the other sliding underneath his shirt and resting against his stomach.   
  
Seishirou pulls away after a moment, and Fuuma pants. His body aches for more touch, for more, always more. As much more as he can get from his brother.   
  
“Seishirou-niisan?” Fuuma asks, quietly, but is unsure what he’s about to ask.   
  
His brother interrupts him, his expression thoughtful for a moment. He says in a soft voice, “You can call me only nii-san.”  
  
“Is that what you like?” Fuuma asks, equally as hushed, his body warm and shaking.   
  
Seishirou smiles, and in the darkness there is a definite glint to it. “Yes.”  
  
“Then…” Fuuma swallows, thickly, as his brother continues peeling back Fuuma’s clothing, stripping him naked. He says, quietly, “Nii-san.”  
  
And that is enough. Seishirou pushes his brother down.   
  
  
  
  
**ii. Second Lesson.**  
(The second lesson is that even though his brother always gets what he wants, he likes it when there is a challenge before the ultimate submission. So Fuuma learns what it is his brother likes—)  
  
His brother likes it when he struggles. The slightest of struggles underneath Seishirou’s body as his brother takes what he wants, stripping Fuuma of his clothing, sliding his hands over him, pushing into him and taking him without any restraint for Fuuma’s comfort. But that is what Fuuma likes, too. He likes that moment of pain, the moment when he feels too full and can’t possibly go on, the moment when he looks up and it’s his brother’s face he sees—his brother, who, in these moments, Fuuma can pretend wants him and loves him.   
  
So he struggles underneath his brother, turns his face away with his face red. He has learned to pretend. Learned to look ashamed, learned to look unhappy, learned to struggle. But deep down, his body burns with desire, deep down his heart thunders with the thrill of his brother’s touch, the thrill of keeping his brother close to him for a moment longer.   
  
“Very cute, Fuuma,” Seishirou murmurs in Fuuma’s ear, his body pressed into Fuuma’s back before he jerks his hips forward and shoves into Fuuma’s little body. Fuuma shudders, eyes clenched tight and fingers fisting in the sheets below him. His body shakes, but he has to bite his lip to keep from sighing out happily.   
  
Instead, he stiffens his body up, feigns the lack of desire that his brother thrills in. He can feel the curve of Seishirou’s smile against the back of his neck as his brother thrusts in and out of Fuuma, and Fuuma willingly takes him in, body shuddering from the pleasure in the pain of being stretched, of being used.   
  
  
  
  
**iii. Third Lesson.**  
(The third lesson is the lesson of immovability: to stay.)   
  
Fuuma knows he will stay with his brother as long as he can. He is happiest with his brother, and the times when his brother actually pays him attention are times that Fuuma is his happiest. It’s all he desires, in a world that can so easily overlook him. His brother is the only one to look at him with some kind of affection. His brother is the only one that touches him.   
  
The pain is good, the attention is good—he feels it all and that is enough for him, if all it means for him to do it is submit to his brother (after that brief struggle). But even when he feels that immovability, he knows that he must pretend, must find new ways to capture his brother’s interest and keep him, because if he does not, Seishirou will not touch him again. And he does not know what he will do if he does not have his brother’s attentions.  
  
So when his brother wants to dress him in their mother’s kimonos, Fuuma lets him. When his brother ties him up and leaves him, struggling and needy, for a time that seems to stretch on for hours, Fuuma lets him and whimpers in the way he knows his brother likes. When his brother wakes him up in the middle of the night by pulling him by his hair to his body, Fuuma lets him. He does not question it, he does not struggle too strongly. Even the things that hurt more than bring pleasure he accepts, because it means his brother will stay.   
  
And that’s all he’s ever wanted.   
  
  
  
  
**iv. Fourth Lesson.**  
(The fourth lesson is that nothing lasts, then.)   
  
Fuuma thinks this when he feels the magic pulse around him—magic he never inherited—and the sky falls down to swallow his brother whole, and he disappears and Fuuma is alone. Nothing lasts, and he shouldn’t have expected it to. But he has learned this lesson too late, and he stays in the wake of his brother’s departure and thinks to himself that even in all the things his brother taught him, he really taught him nothing at all.


End file.
